


The Flowers in Wartime

by SV_Writer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Fantasy, Knight, Wartime Romance, noble lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 06:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16849183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SV_Writer/pseuds/SV_Writer
Summary: An unwanted war rages, ruining everything and everyone involved with it...In the midst of it, two people live.A Lady and a Knight.What will happen when these delicate souls interact with each other?





	The Flowers in Wartime

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING:  
> This story contains:  
> -Pregnancy  
> -Vore  
> -Abuse  
> Please be aware and read it; Lemme know what you think!!
> 
> The story takes place in the fictional world of Oourwe, created by DelicousTFs on deviantart.

The Knight slowly poked at the thick sludgy stew in the metal bowl before him. He didn’t mind under-seasoned food. Most of his food at home was under-seasoned. He didn’t even mind non-seasoned food.

What he did mind was this rancid slop that they were serving called, “army rations”. He poked the spoon past his lips before gagging softly and struggling to swallow it.

Foul… the food hadn’t been this bad when the war started, but it was growing worse. Resources were getting scarce. Spoiled food that would have normally be used for manure and fertilizer was being used for… well, food.

He sighed and placed the bowl beside him before poking at his growling stomach and stretching his legs slightly. He reached down and picked a pebble off the ground, before tossing it into his mouth to suck.

… _Salty… and dusty_ …

Could people survive off dirt? Soil tasted better than the slop they dolled out…

“Oi! You there!”

The Knight raised his head, before spitting out the pebble, noticing his commanding officer before him, “Yeah, sir?”

“What’re you just sitting there for? The Count is almost here!”

The Knight felt his face harden, at the same time his eyes widened in shock. Why on earth was the Count coming here? He nodded and rose to his feet, rushing with the rest of his comrades, forming ranks. He could hear the panicked whispers among the knights like him.

    “why weren’t we told…?”

    “do you think the war’s over?”

    “don’t be daft. The bastard’s a war-monger…”

    “but he has to know, we don’t have anything to fight for anymore…”

The words rang in his ears. They were all true. The war had been going on for over a year now, and had extended from one bad winter into another, and their Count showed no signs of letting up. He wanted the land they were fighting for, a small and relatively useless province of Duemdeld, claiming it was part of his, and it had been stolen from him. No one could prove his claim, since he claimed the theft was made over 150 years ago, and most records from the time were spotty at the very least.

“STAND AT ATTENTION!!”

The commanding officer’s cry rang out hard, and the Knight clicked his heels together as a large, carriage rolled in. Ugh. What a foul looking thing. It was a sickening olive green, lined with a bile yellow and it made him want to vomit more than the foul rations.

The horses pulling the carriage were large, beautiful animals. The Knight could see how well kept, and groomed they were. They would have made perfect war-horses… the horses they had were exhausted and skittish. Taking them into battle was tough now. They didn’t want to fight any more than the soldiers themselves. They were almost useless, to the point where several men wanted to butcher them for meat.

The only reason they hadn’t was because they were state-property and if they were killed, anywhere but on the battle-field, it carried a harsh penalty. Death. A life-for-a-life.

The foot-man opening the door, was clearly not as well-fed as the horses were, as he staggered over to the carriage door and opened it.

The Count was a sight. A large, fat man with rolls of fat hanging from his body and not in a good way. His clothes were bright white and fluffy and layered with pieces of fancy, stylized armour that would probably be of no use in a fight. His hair was thin, wispy and a glowing red, that made it look like he had a fire burning over his head. He had a thin moustache, that he kept twirling, for some odd reason.

…He looked like a goose. An over-stuffed goose. The Knight felt his mouth water. How long had it been since he had eaten a goose…

The Count’s eyes drifted over the weakened army before him and he clicked his tongue softly, before turning to the commanding officer, “There doesn’t seem to have been much progress in the last few months.”

“Forgive us, Count. Lack of resources, on both sides make fighting a war difficult.”

“I do not care. Win using whatever method you must.”

“The rules of war-”

“Whatever method.”

“…I understand, Count.”

“Good”, The Count sniffed deeply, glancing around, “Now take me to the strategy tent. I want to see what plans you have made.”

“Of course, Count.”

“…Husband?”

The Knight blinked at the new voice. A woman’s voice from within the carriage… The Count glanced back at the carriage, dully, “Hm? Oh, yes. Have one of your knights, take care of my wife, during our stay here.”

“Of course, Count. You!”, the Commanding Officer pointed at Knight.

“Me, sir?”

“Yes, help the Lady out.”

“at once sir.”

The Knight quickly hopped out of line and rushed to the carriage and held out his hand to the hunched over woman, who was struggling to get out, “Come on, Milady. I’ll take you to the rest area. You’d be tired after such a long journey, no?”

“Y-Yes… It was… rather exhausting…” A soft delicate hand touched the Knight’s outstretched one, as he slowly helped her.

His eyes widened marginally, as he noticed two things about the Lady. One, was her face. Smooth and unblemished, touched with fading youth, she was a young woman. Much younger than the Count. A trophy wife perhaps, or just a tool for an heir, as was obviously from the second thing; her large, round tummy.

“…A lady should not travel to a battle-field in this condition.”

“A knight should not presume to tell a lady what she can and cannot do.”

… _Feisty woman._  The knight smiled softly under his helmet and nodded, “Indeed, Milady.”

She sighed softly, examining the desolate area silently, “Take me to my tent, please.”

“I’m afraid, we were informed of your arrival rather recently. The tent is being prepared and we had no idea, there’d be two of you and-”

She waved her hand, tiredly, rest her other hand over her belly, “Leave it. Is the rest area clean?”

“…Cleaner than most, I suppose.”

“Then it will do. Lead the way.”

He nodded, and without leaving her hand, he gently led her to the rest area. He couldn’t help but constantly glance back at her. She had a quiet, melancholy air about her. Not entirely sad… More just resigned. The Knight was curious, about her inner thoughts; Did she love the Count? She was carrying child, presumably. Was she given a choice in her marriage? He could only imagine that with her looks; her round-doll like features and soft, dumpy but loving body there must have been dozens more suitors, better that her present husband.

He eventually managed to focus on the path ahead. After all, her past was not his concern.

*

The Lady screamed in pain, her hands curled into fists as she pushed for what must have been the thousandth time. Her entire body was soaked in sweat, her luscious locks sticking to her brow and cheeks, making her unkempt, yet more beautiful than before.

“Almost there, Milady!”

The Doctor’s voice came from below, at her legs, under the sheet. The Knight felt awkward standing there, watching all this take place, but he had no choice. He had been ordered to watch over the lady and he intended to follow those orders.

He just wished, she had considered her due date before coming. A woman giving birth, next to a battlefield was not a pleasant idea. And that fact was only heightened when it happened in real life.

_Where’s the Count?_

A husband should be by his wife, when their family grows… The Knight felt upset that he was the one holding the Lady’s hand and not her Husband…

“…Its here! It’s out! Its… It’s a boy!”

The Knight smiled, as the Lady slumped with exhaustion, “Congrats, Milady. Your husband’s line is secure… He also told me that he’d like to see you and the baby as soon as you’ve cleaned yourself.”

“Hm…”

He froze, as he stared at her body. Her belly, no longer holding a child, was rumpled and slightly deflated, giving it a less full appearance. Her body was slick with sweat, running of her body in thin rivers. Loose strands of hair stuck out from all over her head. Her make-up was smudged and smeared. She looked… broken… and beautiful…

But her face. Her mouth was twisted in fatigue, but her eyes… her eyes had a terrible look in them. He couldn’t describe it. Hatred? Sadness? It was the look of a trapped animal, who wanted to escape…

But escape from what?

Or who?

*

The Lady walked slowly. Her legs still hurt deeply from giving birth. She stared at the tiny baby sleeping in her arms.

_He looks nothing like his father._

That wasn’t entirely true. His hair had a few tiny wisps of hair. Bright red; like his father…

_Like his father…_

When she was young, she didn’t want to marry. She didn’t want children. She didn’t want to be a wife. She wanted to be strong and rule. Her father was the count of a small province. Small, but prosperous. They produced only fruits, like oranges. It was a small trade, but they were a small province. They didn’t need much.

She was her father’s only child and she had aimed for his seat for so long. She loved her father, but she wanted to rule as he did. To stand over her people and care for them, like a shepherd watching his flock. Oh, she had dreamed.

Her father dreamed a different a dream. A dream of a beautiful daughter, marrying a kind husband. And unlike herself, her father had the power to ensure this dream would happen.

The Count was among many suitors, but he was by far the richest. His wealth grew daily, as he annexed the lands of other counts and nobles, citing various reasons; fraud, treason, corruption. He was undoubtably a wealthy and powerful man, and that made him the best choice.

So, the Count became her husband and the next-in line to control her father’s province.

Her father didn’t care about how his son-in-law looked, as long as he could provide for his daughter.

He didn’t respond when she sent letters talking about how he’d beat her, when she failed to pleasure him. He didn’t respond to her pained letters, painfully describing the insults that were rained upon her daily.

He didn’t respond when she sent him a letter with just one line, “I am with a rape-child.”

Her father had loved her dearly when she was young. But he didn’t not respond.

So, she didn’t respond when she heard how sick her father had become.

And she did not respond when she heard of his passing.

The Lady blinked in daze, as she stared up at the dark, morning sky. The sun was not up yet. And it would not be for at least another hour. All the soldiers slept, deep sleeps. The pitiful masses sleeping off their exhaustion to fight a pointless war, based on a made-up charge by her husband.

Her husband… He was a foul person. Other humans held little value to him, as long as he could get what he wanted. And he wanted power and wealth. The King might have had the power to stop him, but it was undeniable that the Count was good at his job. He managed his realm with a terrible efficiency.

Even if the king knew of the darkness within the Count, she doubted if he’d do anything…

The Lady glanced back down at the little bundle of flesh and bones in her hand. This was the only thing securing his blood to his seat… if it was gone, his power would be gone with his death…

She felt her jaw, slowly bend and twist, widening with soft cracks and pops as her bone adjusted to its new widened shape.

A deep hunger rumbled in her belly as hate burned in her heart. This mass of meat was a sign of strength for that monster and a sign of pain for herself. A mark of the torture he inflicted on her. Was it not within her rights to act against it? Wasn’t it?

The baby cooed softly, before giggling as her mouth widened over it.

_One quick swallow… that’s all… and-_

“Milady?”

She turned towards the voice, her eyes widening as she noticed the Knight; the same one who had been with her all this time, staring at her in confusion.

She felt her tongue loll around in her over-sized mouth, as panic grew in her heart, “Ish… Ish not wah ish sheems! Ah whas jus… Ah…”

Oh god… She… She had to run or…Something… Beg? Run? Attack? Everything felt like a bad choice.

“Milady… Why don’t you calm down and, um… Make your mouth normal, before speaking?”

She blinked at his calm tone, “Yo… Yo nhot ‘haird?”

“No, Milady, I’m terrified, but my job is to watch over you and I’d really like to understand what’s going on.”

She felt her jaw slowly retract to his normal position, as she hugged the child closer to her bosom, “Please… Please don’t tell anyone what you just saw…”

“…You are a Predator?”

“…Yes.”

“How?”

“My mother was secretly a witch. I was born one.”

“I see… How did you hide it?”

“I was blessed without the Hunger. I do not need to eat as others of my kind might.”

“…But you were trying to eat you son.”

“…Yes.”

“Then you knew what you were doing.”

“…Yes.”

“Why?”

“He… He is a rape-child.”

“But… if your honour was sullied, then why did your husband not-”

“He is my husband’s child.”

“…I don’t…”

She felt her mouth twist in anger and shame, “My husband forced himself upon me! He hurt me! I hate him! I hate this… this thing!”

“…”

“…Say something!”

“…Your son does not seem to hate you.”

She glanced down at the child who was staring up at his mother silently, “It… It does not matter.”

“… Your son is not responsible for the crime of his birth.”

“He was the motive and the result.”

“Was he the perpetrator?”

“…”

“Your child is just a baby, Milady. He loves you as much as I’ve ever seen a baby love their mother.”

“…”

“Please don’t take out your true and righteous anger on the child.”

“But who then? Who should I hurt for my torture?”

“The one who hurt you.”

“How?”

“…I do not know.”

“Then what good are you?”

“…My job is to protect you, so I’ll do that. With honour and respect.”

She stared at the Knight for a few seconds before letting out a bark of bitter laughter, “I see… Then watch over me and my child. I’m tired now. I’d like to go to bed…”

“Of course, Milady.”

“You will watch over me, in my tent.”

“As you wish, Milady.”

“…You will watch over my bed.”

“if that is what you wish, Milady.”

“…You will use your bare arms to protect me… and care for me, in my bed.”

“…Milady, I-”

“You said, you will protect me?”

“…Yes.”

“So, please… Please. Just… Protect me. Protect my skin. Protect my dreams…

“…”

“… Please…”

“…As you wish… My Lady.”

*

She felt a moan ready to burst from her mouth, before she clasped her hand over mouth, stifling it. Silence. The priority was silence. She knew how wrong this was.

He knew how wrong this was.

They both knew, but they did it anyway.

_I was told to take care of her._

_He is simply protecting… caring for me…_

What falsehoods.

He gritted his teeth, as he thrust once more, feeling her body tighten around himself. It hurt, and it felt so good.

She felt his thick, clumsy fingers explore her chest, touching her breasts. Those heavy, calloused fingers. They were rough and hard, unlike the thin, skinned flabby fingers of her husband.

They were hard, thick, rough and uncertain.

And so gentle.

He felt the soft nub of her nipple and massaged it between his fingers.

_She’s so soft…_

All other women, he knew felt… harsh. He had not been with many. Mostly whores. They all had a used-up quality about them. They smelled of foul perfumes, make-up and spit. They knew how to please people, but there was always something fake about them.

She was… so delicate. The sweat oozing from her body was real. Her stifled moans were real. Her twitches were real. Her face… her expression was real.

Her hand slowly left her body and moved up touching his face. Hard and chiselled. Scarred from fights and war. The harsh stubble of a tired man felt good against her soft palms. She pulled him closer and rubbed her cheek against his.

Like sandpaper… Like jute or rough papyrus. Yet, somehow better. She breathed softly, taking in his smell. Sweat. A foul sweat, with a foulness below it. Blood, dirt and organs. A terrible stink, yet she couldn’t take in enough of it.

She could feel her chest heaving painfully.

He could feel the exhaustion in his body.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him into an embrace. He didn’t fight back.

Heat burst between them; from him, within her.

They remained silent and unmoving for what felt like hours. Maybe it was hours.

The silence was peaceful.

For a short while, they felt dreams at the edge of their mind. Dreams of peace. Of happiness. Of love. Of different times. Times where things could have been different.

Things that couldn’t happen here.

He pulled away from her gently, when he was sure she was asleep.

She let him move away, when she knew it was right.

Neither of them spoke, as he dressed.

Neither of them spoke, as he left to eat, and bring her breakfast.

Perhaps they knew, that it was best to not speak of this. This moment of affection and passion.

It was a mistake.

It was a good mistake.

He stretched softly as he walked briskly, taking in the cold morning air.

She stretched in bed gently, massaging her breasts softly before rising to feed her child.

A good mistake…

If there was such a thing.

*

War is not a place for a lady.

That was what her husband had said, before sending her back to the castle. She didn’t complain. She had no reason to. She knew why she had been brought along in the first place.

_A child born on the battlefield, shall be a boy, with unrivalled prowess in strength and courage._

That was what the old Myths and legends said. Myths may have been old and mysterious tales, but one could not discard their words for there was always something true in them.

A fitting heir was what he wanted. And he had no problem with forcing her to travel in her condition and he had no problem with the child being born in such a foul place.

The Lady examined the child suckling from her breast, gently, before smiling unintentionally. She hated the babe. His bright red hair was too much like his father’s, but his eyes… those kind eyes…

_Like his grandfather…_

Her face hardened at the thought, before she glanced up and away from the child. Those last few days on the battlefield were… unexpectedly bright.

Brighter than most of her recent years had been…

She felt the child’s lips detach from her breast, before she lifted it higher and began to pat his back gently. He quickly let out a soft burp, before she took him over to his cradle and lowered the already half-asleep child into it.

She sighed softly, before grabbing a silk napkin and rubbing her bare breasts with it. While only one was used, the other had begun to leak slightly as well. She might have made a good wet-nurse in another life…

Hesitation gripped her as her hand hovered over her breast. She recalled those thick, calloused hands touching her with the utmost kindness and respect. How the explored her body with the reverence one would reserve for a god.

With love that one would reserve for their wife…

She clicked her tongue and threw her napkin away before ringing the small bell, letting in a small army of maids. Thin women. It was a bad sign, when everyone was becoming effected by the war… they worked quickly, readjusting her corset and garments before rushing out.

Hopefully, those women would return to normal soon. This war was a drain. An endless pit. They were shoving men and food into it, hoping to get land, but were getting nothing back. She clicked her tongue in distaste. If she had been taking care of the state, she knew how to escape from this terrible war. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was possible…

“Milady.”

She paused and glanced back at the old butler standing at the door, “What?”

“The Count returns shortly.”

Her eyes widened softly. He was returning…? But, the war…?

“The War is over. The enemy surrendered.”

Surrendered… Then… They had won. Somehow, despite the struggle, they had won. She glanced away and frowned. It was not bad… but it left a bad taste in her mouth.

She turned back to the butler, “Let me know when he arrives. I must speak to my husband.”

*

“What do you want?”

“…Can a wife not congratulate her husband on his victory?

The Count rolled his eyes, “Is that all?”

The Lady frowned and shook her head, “No… How did you win?”

“By shoving the troops into a meat-grinder.”

She frowned at the unfamiliar term, “I… I don’t...?”

He smirked and hooked his fingers under his tight suspenders, “Of course you don’t. Because you’re a fool, who thinks your smarter than you are. And I am a genius well-aware of my capabilities.”

She said nothing to the obvious insult.

“The Marfaton Province has a strong army, but only because they border Duemdeld. They take no chances with that terrible nation, so they consolidate most of their forces there. They could have moved their forces to combat me, but it would have cost a great deal in resources for a piece of land that has nothing but a single, almost-abandoned trade route to the desert shores of Jayhept.”

She rolled her eyes softly, at his back. He acted like this was new news. This was information she knew.

“And Marfatons can’t risk moving their forces should the elves decide to invade their nation. A constant risk, due to their unfortunate placement. So, it was an obvious choice.”

“What choice?”

“Sacrifice.”

“…what?”

He rolled his eyes at her, “As long as I shoved enough soldiers, fast enough, into battle it would reach a point where they would overwhelm The Marfaton’s army with sheer numbers. They would have to cut their losses and retreat.”

She swallowed softly, “The Marfaton Province… is worth twice your own. They have more resources than we could ever hope to have.”

“Perhaps.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Marfaton soldiers are strong; at least worth ten times our own.”

He shrugged, “True.”

“…They can destroy many of our own without any effort.”

“Also, true.”

“…How many soldiers must you have sent to overwhelm that calibre of warrior?”

“Thousands. Tens of thousands at least. But, it worked!” He clapped his hands joyfully, “We now have a stronghold in their province!”

“At the cost of Foskerith blood! The people of Foskerith should not fight among themselves, like you’ve made them! The King should’ve stopped you.”

He snorted, “They were peasants at best. And the King knows better than to get involved and risk collateral damage.”

“They were your people!”

The smug grin on his face faded softly, “Watch your tone woman.”

“You treated them, like cattle to slaughter! For a piece of land worth nothing!”

A magnificent crack rang across the room, sending the Lady sprawling to the floor, clutching her swelling cheek.

“I said… Watch your tone…”

“I…”

“What?”

The cold shadow made her body tremble softly, “I… overstepped, my lord… Forgive me…”

“Hmm…”

She heard him stride around her huddled form. She already knew what he was going to do. What he had done, dozens of times before.

“Forgiveness… comes with atonement for one’s mistake.”

“…Yes.”

“I’ve told you this, several times.”

“…yes.”

“…Get your cuffs.”

She slowly pushed up from the floor and shuffled over to a cast-iron chest sitting in the edge of the room. She didn’t want to open it. She hated it. She wanted to destroy it.

“Get them now.”

She pulled out the thick metal cuffs from the box; three massive shackles all connected through heavy steel chains. She turned and shuffled back, handing them to her husband, who examined them in his flabby hands briefly.

“Hm… Turn. Hands on your back.”

She responded accordingly, before feeling the cold metal lock around her arms and neck. It was painfully tight.

She cried out, as he tugged her chains, sending her to the floor, before dragging her over to the bed and dropping her. He quickly, undid his trousers and exposed his groin to her.

“Suck it.”

She had no power to refuse him. The will to fight had been beaten from her and sealed with fear. She did as she was told without complaint.

“You should know your place by now.”

This foulness… Her place…

“I hate it, when people don’t realize their place.”

This disgusting …Hate…

“Your father was like that. The fool was sticking to his little realm for so long. He just didn’t understand that passing his realm to me, would have been in his best interest. Well, at least he was old. No one questions the death of an old person, have you noticed that?”

… _Father?_

“I suppose you take after your father, in that way, but you were easier to subdue. Just keeping your letters from him and his from you.? Easy.”

The letters…

She gagged as she felt her head being shoved harder, “BUT… You had to go and act smart, after you just had my son… Playing with that low-born knight… I bet you thought you could actually escape. Well, I made sure he was the first to enter the meat-grinder.”

Oh…

Tears mingled with tears. Tears of pain. Tears of sorrow.

Her body felt numb. She felt her head being pulled away softly. She could feel the hot cum drip from her face, with her tears. His voice echoed in her ears, “…You are forgiven now.”

And then she was alone.

*

It all felt like a dream.

An endless dream. A loop.

Every day was the same. Waking, eating, taking care of the child, abuse… It was unchanging. It was routine. Week after week…

She didn’t say anything.

She spoke to no one.

What was there to say? She had lost everything.

The love her father had for her was stolen. The love she found in that poor knight was destroyed. Her child… Her rape-child, whom she had come to adore… Was taken by the monster who proclaimed to be her husband. She could never coo over him, as wanted. Always watched by a monster…

What a world…

She was that monster’s toy every night. Chains, leather and hemp binding her flesh, as he struck her. How she wanted to jump out of the highest window and just let the earth crash into her.

How she wanted…

She wanted a reason.

Just one reason to act…

…

Her clothes felt tight…

*

“You’re pregnant, Milady.”

The Lady blinked softly at the words, “…I see.”

The Mid-Wife was a little puzzled by the Lady. She never seemed happy. Even when she heard of her last pregnancy, she seemed more broken than anything.

_Well, its not my concern…_

The Mid-Wife stepped back, from the Lady, who had begun to examine her figure in a mirror. The gentle swell of her abdomen was already apparent.

“You seem to be growing rather fast, Milady.”

“…Is that so?”

_God-damn this dry woman…_ , “Yes, Milady. I presume you’re carrying twins, and that you’re perhaps 3 months along.”

The Lady paused before turning, “Three… Three months, you say?”

_Hm?_

The Mid-Wife nodded softly, “Yes, I’m quite sure about that.”

The change in the Lady’s demeanour was astounding. Her eyes seemed to twinkle with light. The edges of her lips were slowly curling into a funny smile. The Mid-Wife was dumbstruck.

_I’ve never seen her like this…_

“D-Did something happen, Three Months ago, Milady?”

The Lady blinked, as she turned to face the Mid-Wife, “Hm? Oh, its nothing… I was… It was shortly after I gave birth to my son… That’s all.”

“I… I see.”

The Lady suddenly stepped towards the Mid-Wife, “Listen to me, carefully. Do not tell anyone this news, least of all my Husband.”

“But-”

“I will tell him myself. It will… It will be a good surprise for him tonight.”

“Ah. Very good, Milady.”

The Lady nodded, “Yes… Yes, it is. So, tell no one. And come back tomorrow. I must reward you for this good news.”

The Mid-Wife blinked before nodding, “Thank you, Milady!”

“No… No, thank you for this wonderful news… Thank you.”

*

The Count sighed as walked, massaging his shoulder as hard as his weak hands could manage. There was a soft throbbing anger at the back of his mind from the message he received as he walked out of his study.

_Your Wife, wishes to speak to you in her chambers, Count._

The Bitch had the nerve to summon him… She still hadn’t learned her place… Well, the anger would be good impetus.

He didn’t have much of a reason for picking her as his wife. There were many women he could have had, but most of them we’re either foul to look at or dreadfully stupid. He wanted a decent balance of brain and beauty, and she was just that. Not a genius, but not a whore. Perfectly balanced. Even though, he disliked that aspect of her, he wanted his child to be as strong and smart as possible. Someone who’d take care of his legacy. The best way to take care of that was genes, and then education. He had already set up to have some of the best teachers come in a few years, when his son was ready.

_…I’ll have to get rid of her soon. She’s getting to cocky… I really don’t need her anymore…_

She was just a display piece now, after all. He took her land-inheritance. He got his heir. If he needed another, he could always find another woman.

_Hmm… Maybe now is the time to get rid of her._

He paused in front of her chambers, before smoothing his fluffy robes gently.

_Maybe I should kill her tonight. Maybe a few maids too? Kill them and play with their bodies for a bit… That would be fun…_

He pushed the doors open and glanced around the room briefly, before focusing on The Lady sitting in front of a blazing fire, her arms wrapped over her belly, a small smile on her face.

That smile unnerved him. She never smiled and it was not natural.

She had two wine goblets in front of her; One filled with milk and the other empty. He watched her sip from the milk-filled goblet softly, before glancing back at him, and seeing her smile widen.

… _Unnatural…_

He watched her rise and glide over to him, her hips swaying with unusual feminine grace. There was a dreamy, glazed look about her, as she moved, “Rejoice, My sweet Count…”

“Rejoice…?”

‘I am with child again.”

He blinked in surprise, even though it shouldn’t have been a shock. He had taken her several times over the last two months. It was almost expected, “I… I see.”

“Twins.”

“…Twins?”

“Yes.”

Twins… Twins was good. Backup Heirs… Two at once. If the oldest died, these two would remain. No, if the oldest was a fool, then he could also train these two. Yes… The competition would make for better heirs.

“Why did the Mid-Wife note tell me?”

The Lady took the Count’s hand and led him over to the fire-place and began to pour wine into the empty-goblet, “I asked her not to. I wanted to share the joyous news myself.”

He took the wine filled goblet and stared at it. The fire shining through it, made it look like red blood, “…Your reaction to our last child was more muted.”

“I did not know the joys of motherhood then...”

“Hm.”, He sipped the wine softly. He did not let her spend much time with her, to prevent the child from becoming attached to her, but perhaps it had also made her appreciate those moments more and generated a deeper feeling of maternal affection.

_It might be good to explore this further…_  “Well, adding a few morsh to da family ish alwash good….”

He frowned and touched his lips. His words sounded funny, “Ish dere…” Yes, there was something off…

A loud crash rang through his ears. He glanced down and stared at the wine stains on the edge of his trousers and shards of glass around him. what…?

He glanced at his fingers. Nerveless and immobile… His arms was beginning to feel numb, as it fell by his side limply. What…?

He blinked once.

His body felt cold.

…where were his clothes? He tried to move his limbs. They felt dead, but he could feel the life returning to them. Then he felt the ropes, binding them.

He felt the piece of cloth in his mouth, gagging him.

_What is this…?_

He was still in his Wife’s chambers. But the lights had dimmed. It must have been dusk or later…

A soft gentle voice filled his ears. A song… Nay, a lullaby… His eyes rolled around and he turned to see His wife, walking through the room holding a bundle of blankets… No… His Son. He could hear the child making noises. He sounded happy.

Anger filled the Count’s veins as he tried to scream, “MMM!”

The Lady turned towards him, with a hard, stony look, raising one finger to her lips, for silence, before continuing her song.

Damn it… What was going on? How did this happen? This bitch… This BITCH… He struggled to escape the ropes binding him, but they were tied firmly, and he could feel his skin bruise under them. Damn it…

The Lady gently placed the baby in a cradle before sliding over to the Count, as he continued his futile struggle, “So sorry to keep you… Although, it doesn’t really matter…”

He focused a glare of pure hatred on her, and saw her stiffen in momentary panic. She was still afraid of him. Good… He could still get out…

She stared for a few seconds before glancing away, “I… I didn’t want to do this. I don’t like hurting others. I… I accepted our marriage because it was what my father wanted. I didn’t try to escape from you, because I knew… That I was expendable. And it hurt. It hurt me.”

She sighed and covered her face with her hands, “No, that’s a lie… I don’t know why I did anything. I should have killed you long ago… I should have let this bloody place collapse… I should have stabbed myself when I discovered I was carrying your child… There was so much, I should have done…”

The Count grunted, softly. He didn’t have time to listen to this bitch complain. He had to get out, and then he was going to tie her to a bed and fuck her till she bled. Then he’d slit her throat; unborn children be damned.

“You know, they’re not your children. The ones in me.”

_That just makes this easier for me, woman…_

“I’m not sure, if I’d love them more than yours… I did hate your baby at first… but he’s so cute… Did you know, a wife can take her husband’s place as regent of a land, if the heir is too young to manage the land themselves? I didn’t. I only discovered that today, when I was trying to learn what would happen to him, when you died. I’m still going to be with him.”

_Fuck this… She can’t kill me… She doesn’t have the stomach for it…_

The Lady glanced at him and shivered again, “I… I can’t even look at you, without feeling that fear you built in me… Does it make you proud? To break someone… Someone who never hated you? I don’t think you’re proud… You just don’t care, do you? I wonder if that’s worse…”

A soft grumble rang through the room, and the Count frowned in confusion.

_What the fuck was that?_

The Lady glanced at her tummy and blinked, “Ah, yes… I… I skipped dinner today. I told the doctor I was feeling ill and asked for Essence of Darkshade for sleep…”

_Essence of… That’s how she made me pass out, eh?_

“I didn’t want this to get messed up. I’ve only done this twice before, so forgive me, if I mess up.”

Confusion deepened on the Count’s face, as he watched his wife reach out and slip both her hands into her mouth, awkwardly. He watched her move her hands for a few briefly seconds, before a resounding crack rang out and his eyes widened in shock for the first time.

_Oh god… She’s… How… No, its not possible. Dear God, it can’t be possible!!_

Horror began to paint over his confusion, as her jaw continued to widen slowly, punctuated by the occasion pop from her jaw splitting again to accommodate its terrible expansion.

How? Predators were supposed to be consumed with hunger? Demons in human flesh!! Yet, he had lived with one. He had a child with one! Was her silence just a ruse? His lands… she aimed for his lands! She was going to bring ruin to them all!!

The fat little man struggled onto his belly, as he tried to squirm away. The cold floor made him shiver, but that didn’t matter. He had to warn the guards. They had to kill her before she fed. If she fed, then she’d be unstoppable!!

“Ah, ‘Oo ‘an’t ‘eeve ‘ow.”

He felt his legs being caught in an iron vice before being pulled back, away from the door. He turned back in horror at the woman, the monster he though was his wife. Her eyes were dark and cold, as she shoved his feet into her massive maw. It was damp and warm and so very uncomfortable…

“MMMM!!”

She didn’t respond to his screams. She couldn’t. After all, he was in her mouth. She wriggled forward, like a snake, her cheeks building as she pushed him deeper. No, this couldn’t be how it ended for him! He had done so much; sacrificed so many to get where he was now!!

He felt the tightness of her body, as she slowly began to draw him in like some dark force. It was like a steel tube, wrapping around him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t squirm. He was stuck.

She was moving fast; already he was up to her shoulders and he could see her face, clearer than ever before. A thin layer of sweat beaded her forehead, shining like diamonds. Her nose and cheeks were flushed red and her breathing was rapid and uncontrolled. And her eyes… her eyes shone with hunger and lust. He could see her joy; her excitement. The excitement of a child, who had learnt the pleasures of an adult.

As his face was slowly being swallowed, he could feel the tears leak from his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to die… Not like this… He was going to escape! Someone would find this bitch and cut him out! He was going to live! He was going to continue his reign!

That was what he thought, as the Lady swallowed heavily and send him to the confines of her belly.

And that was what he continued to think, even as he was reduced to acidic chyme, until he could think no more.

*

It was mildly disgusting, how much pleasure she felt from this massive belly.

The Lady rubbed it softly, as her ex-husband barely moved inside her. It was tighter than she expected… and it hurt a little. But it also felt very good.

She swallowed softly, as her hand, slipped under her gargantuan belly, towards her nether regions, attempting to rub it gently, before stopping.

She couldn’t reach properly…

She moaned sadly, as she tried to stand up, wobbling slightly, before regaining her balance and dragging her massive stomach over to the bed and, with some effort, collapsing on it.

_I… I did it…_

She did it. She got rid of him… She placed her hand over her head in disbelief. It was just that easy… she rubbed her belly and let out another aroused moan, before remembering her baby was in the room and covered her mouth.

She wanted to raise him to be a better person than his father… Masturbating in the same room with him, would probably not be a good way to start.

She sighed and turned over to her side and continued to massage her belly gently. It did feel so good… Was this how other predator’s felt? She’d have to consider examining this in the future…

Oh, she’d also have to re-evaluate all those prisoners. The Count had a love for executions, and she was quite sure many didn’t deserve it…

She pushed her belly softly, and felt the man who had once been her husband turn softer than he already was…

And the justice system; so many had been set up to listen to the Count and do as he said, not as the law said. She’d have to look at that too…

She felt his moan in pain, as pleasure rushed through her…

And the taxes… She had to adjust them considering the after effects of the war. She wanted the people to live a little easier…

It felt so good…

She paused and blinked for a few seconds, before tearing open her blouse and massaging her breast, letting out a soft, but unrestricted moan.

Fuck this.

_I’ll deal with all of the minutia tomorrow… Tonight… I want to be free…_

*

The Countess sighed as she read through the various letters before her. The reports said that the irrigation systems for the farmers south of Easthearth, were suitable, but she the language felt too lax. She had no desire to risk it right now; the Southern farmers were in charge of the potato crop, and she wanted to bumper crop this year to lower the prices.

She began to scribble her thoughts as a butler slowly walked up to her, “Countess.”

“Butler.”

“There is a soldier here to see you.”

“…Another one looking for compensation? You’ll have to tell him to go to the main hall. Isn’t Nancy dealing with this issue?”

“He is not looking for compensation, Countess.”

“He’s not?”

“No. He says he must speak to you on another subject.”

“…What is that?”

“He doesn’t wish to say, Ma’am.”

“… Have you checked him for weapons?”

“He was carrying a sword and several bits of armour; standard issue for a Knight of a Foskerith Unit. He also carries a cane.”

“A cane? Is he crippled?”

“An amputee, it would seem.”

“…He is a soldier from our army?”

“It would appear so.”

“What is the possibility of this being a false claim?”

“…I’d say a relatively small chance. He has the bearing of a solider and a train physique, baring his amputated leg.”

“Hm…”, She tapped her quill against the table gently, “Search him properly. Take away his weapons… and give him one of our canes. One that’s light but can still support him. And make sure he’s clean before sending him up.”

“A bath?”

“No, just… make him take off his boots.”

“Very good, Ma’am. Anything else?”

“…Pickles. Half-a-dozen more pickles.”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

“Oh, and arrange for the doctor sometime this week.” She placed her hand over her gravid belly softly, “I’d like to know when I should be expecting the children.”

“Indeed, Madam. At once.”

As soon as he walked out, silence fell over the room again, barring the soft scratching of paper. She made it a point to try and hear anyone who came to her, if she had the time. Right now, she had some time…

It must have been ten minutes later when the door opened. She didn’t look up, from her work. She had discovered that ignoring certain guests was a good act, in determining who was worth listening to.

The soft click of the cane was rather unnerving, as the soldier walked into the room. She said nothing as he walked in and stood before her.

She waited for him to say something, but he just stood silently staring at her. She wanted to look up at him, but that would defeat the purpose of her act.

…

…

Normally, they spoke at this point…

…

Without looking up, she cleared her throat, “Can I help you?”

“…I was hoping to enter your service… Milady.”

She frowned and looked up, “Excuse me, I am a Coun-”

Oh.

That face.

Those broad clumsy hands.

That simple, innocent smile.

Scarred.

Hurt.

Broken.

Still innocent.

Still so very kind.

She felt her hands tighten over her belly. She felt the unborn children within her shift, as if they could feel her delight. Her joy. Their joy.

 

The Knight scratched his head awkwardly, “I… I said, I’ll protect you… Is… Is there an opening for a wounded Knight? I promise to serve you faithfully and… I won’t leave your side… again.”

 

She just stared, tears welling up at the edges of her eyes before she nodded, “Of course. Of course… Let’s… Please, sit… I… We have a lot to discuss.”

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

THE END.


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